


Spun Gold in Summer

by LupineCrown (Wolf_of_Lilacs)



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Gore, Complicated Sibling Relationships, F/F, Feelings Realization, Romantic Fluff, but it's mostly happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/LupineCrown
Summary: "Mothwing’s heart stutters, and she smiles back. If she can’t trust Leafpool, then who can she trust?"Hawkfrost reveals a terrible secret and spins a little lie. Everything spirals from there.
Relationships: Leafpool/Mothwing (Warriors)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	Spun Gold in Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raininshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininshadows/gifts).

> Spoiler-y warning in the endnotes.

“That was terrible. You could have been more convincing.” Hawkfrost slashes his claws near her nose, and she backs away into the reeds.

The Gathering has left Mothwing feeling…almost furious. She’s felt annoyed at Hawkfrost before, and concerned, and any number of other similar things, but never anything like this.

“Fine. I won’t lie to them for you again,” she spits. “I just won’t.”

He blinks, suddenly gentle. “You won’t have to, don’t you worry.” He bares his teeth at her and pads away, tail held high.

That was too easy, but she’s rather too grateful that he’s gone away to feel any dread.

“Mothwing?” Leafpool emerges from the shadows, her fur ruffled and her eyes bright in the moonlight.

“Did you overhear?” Mothwing hopes she hadn’t.

Leafpool won’t meet her eyes. Ah. She did, then. Mothwing’s mouth goes dry. “I have to go,” she mews abruptly.

Leafpool opens her mouth as if to say more but snaps it shut. “Goodnight, I suppose.”

“Right.” Mothwing longs to press close to Leafpool, to breathe in her sweet scent and feel the soft vibrations of her purr. But Hawkfrost could find out and use that against her, too, and she doesn’t want to bring Leafpool into this.

They go their separate ways without another word.

The next morning as Mothwing is tucking into a water vole with Willowpaw, Mistyfoot pokes her head in. “Leopardstar wants to speak with you,” she meows.

Mothwing goes cold. “Did she say why?”

Mistyfoot doesn’t look at her. “No. Come on.”

“What about me? Should I come, too?” Willowpaw’s mew squeaks, kit-like.

“No, just Mothwing.” Mistyfoot gentles her mew, but Mothwing doesn't find this comforting.

Leopardstar rises as Mothwing is ushered inside. She’s all alone.

Mothwing relaxes, thinking that maybe this has nothing to do with Hawkfrost but—

“Hawkfrost brought me some troubling information this morning,” Leopardstar meows without preamble. “He threatened to take it to the Clan immediately, but I told him to wait until I spoke to you.”

Mothwing shuffles her paws, her claws edging out.

“You already know what it is, don’t you?” Leopardstar’s meow has a bit of a snarl in it, and her long spotted tail swishes in wide arcs.

Mothwing stills her paws and raises her head. She lets her fur lie flat. “Please tell me what he said.”

Leopardstar pads closer. Mothwing isn’t a small cat, but Leopardstar has raised up on the tips of her paws, her eyes fierce and teeth bared. Mothwing cringes back.

“He told me that you faked the moth’s wing sign so that Mudfur would choose you for his apprentice.” Leopardstar hisses, eyes wild. “StarClan didn’t choose you at all! You schemed and lied to this Clan.”

“I didn’t,” Mothwing meows, but all she can think of is what Hawkfrost might do to her, and to feel a so betrayed. He’s her brother. They’d played together as kits. Why had he done this to her? What had she ever done?

“What proof do you have of that? Just you word against his? I’d say we should seek StarClan’s guidance, but you’ve never had a dream from them, have you? Can’t teach poor Willowpaw what she needs to know.” Leopardstar’s sides are heaving in her frantic fury.

“I…I can teach her herbs and—”

“That’s not enough! How dare you deceive this Clan, and Mudfur.” Leopardstar growls more furiously at this, and Mothwing remembers with a sinking feeling that Mudfur was her father.

Well, she thinks, this is it, then. Leopardstar is impossible to calm down once she gets started. No one is coming to Mothwing’s rescue. She’ll have to do it herself.

“I love RiverClan, Leopardstar,” she meows, her voice steady. “I’ve done the best I’ve known how.”

“RiverClan deserves more than your best,” Leopardstar replies.

“I know.” Mothwing bends her head and laps at her chest fur.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Leopardstar pushes her face close to Mothwing’s and snaps at her. Mothwing skitters back, pressing against the den wall.

“I’ll leave the Clan, if that’s what you want me to do,” she meows heavily.

“I don’t know what I want from you,” Leopardstar admits. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“Hawkfrost faked that sign,” Mothwing finally tries. She’s got nothing left to lose; she doesn’t expect anything to come of it.

She’s right. “Why would you accuse such a respectable warrior? Your brother, no less. You lack even loyalty to your kin. Get out of my sight.”

“What will you tell the Clan?”

“That is not your concern. Get out!” Leopardstar lashes a paw, striking Mothwing on the side of the nose and drawing blood. Mothwing flinches but doesn’t cry out.

“Can I say goodbye to Willowpaw?”

“I am generous,” Leopardstar mews. “But tell her nothing. I would want her faith to suffer any more than it has to.”

Mothwing pads out. The camp is undisturbed. Everyone goes about their business, except with occasional suspicious glances at Stormfur and Brook, who are sharing a fish between them. Mothwing nods to them, and they nod back.

She always liked Stormfur. All the Clan had. Even Hawkfrost had, she remembers. He’d wanted to be as great a warrior when he grew up, he’d always used to tell her when they were apprentices. What had gone so wrong?

But Stormfur isn’t her concern right now. She ducks into the medicine den, where Willowpaw is sorting some freshly picked watermint and mallow. She’s very precise, making sure that none of the piles of leaves mix. She’ll make a fantastic medicine cat, if she finishes her training. Mothwing sighs.

Willowpaw looks up, startled. “Hi,” she chirps. “What did Leopardstar want?”

What does she say? Mothwing gazes around the den that has only recently started to feel like home, gazes at this eager little cat that she does not deserve to train. “Willowpaw,” she meows at last.

Willowpaw’s fur rises along her spine. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to leave the Clan for a while.” Her mew is too soft, but Willowpaw understands anyway.

“But you’ll be back soon?”

“We’ll see,” Mothwing murmurs, brushing her tail against Willowpaw’s flank.

“But I don’t know enough,” Willowpaw protests.

“Do your best. If you need help, send someone to ThunderClan or…” Surely Leafpool would help. But if she knew why Mothwing was being sent away… No. Leafpool was kind, too kind. Willowpaw would be fine.

“Goodbye, Mothwing.” Willowpaw’s mew chokes.

Mothwing gives her a lick on the ear and slinks out of camp through the reeds.

“Don’t come back,” some cat hisses, then Hawkfrost leaps in front of her, oozing regret. “I’m sorry, sister. This is the best way.”

“Fox dung,” she tells him and brushes past. She dares not look back.

*

Mothwing walks across the edge of WindClan’s territory, her head and tail high. It’s hard not to cower, but they don’t yet know that she’s been driven out of RiverClan in shame, and so they won’t be suspicious of her.

She has nowhere to go.

Nowhere except to try ThunderClan, who are notorious for taking in disgraced outsiders. Wasn’t one of their medicine cats from ShadowClan, seasons ago? Mudfur had always spoken fondly of her. Yellowfang, Mothwing thinks her name was. She’d trained as a warrior first, too, just as Mudfur had, just as Mothwing had.

Somewhat encouraged, Mothwing picks up her pace, but this seems to catch the attention of a distant WindClan patrol, who rush to intercept her. She recognizes Whitetail and Tawnyfur, but doesn’t know the name of the apprentice with them.

“Is there something the matter in RiverClan?” Whitetail meows, dipping her head in greeting.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m just passing through.” Mothwing knows she’s a terrible liar; she speaks too fast and can’t make eye contact. Whitetail doesn’t seem suspicious, but Tawnyfur is.

She cocks her golden-brown head. “Are you sure? Is there something Barkface can do for you?”

“No, nothing,” Mothwing squeaks.

Whitetail and Tawnyfur both study her, tails flicking uneasily. “If we let you pass, RiverClan won’t have are pelts, will they?”

“I have medicine cat business that I need to speak to Leafpool about,” Mothwing meows, but she still can’t meet their eyes. Her heart pounds.

“Okay,” Whitetail meows slowly. “Go ahead. But WindClan is just as able to help with medicine cat things as ThunderClan is, you know.”

Great, she’s offended. Better than what would happen if she knew the truth, Mothwing assures herself, and pads quickly past the three of them.

She leaps the stream that separates the two Clans, then waits. She’s not completely sure how to get to their camp. Or, well, she knows how to get to it, but worries she’ll go flipping over one of the steep sides and break her neck. So, better to wait for a patrol.

She doesn’t have to wait long. What looks like a hunting patrol, or maybe it isn’t a patrol but an assessment, or…whatever, that’s irrelevant. Anyway, a warrior and an apprentice chase a squirrel out of the undergrowth. The apprentice, a little, long-haired white cat, pounces on it and kills it swiftly, then raises her head proudly.

“Nicely done,” the warrior, either Brackenfur or Thornclaw—Mothwing has never been able to tell them apart—meows.

The warrior finally spots Mothwing. “Oh,” he says. “Is there something the matter in RiverClan?”

The standard greeting for medicine cats, it seems. “Not with RiverClan,” Mothwing replies. “Just me. Will you take me to Leafpool?”

“Of course. Whitepaw’s finished her hunting for the day. Is it all right if we pick up her catch as we go?”

Mothwing can’t very well say no to that, so she agrees.

Whitepaw’s catch is impressive. They dig up a couple birds and several mice on their way.

“Was that an assessment?” Mothwing asks kindly.

“Not officially,” the warrior replies.

“How’d I do, Brackenfur?” Whitepaw mews through a mouthful of fur.

_Ah_, Mothwing thinks.

“Warrior-quality hunting, if you ask me,” he purrs. “Won’t be long now.”

Whitepaw squeaks.

ThunderClan is quite at ease as Brackenfur leads them into the hollow. A litter of kits scampers about, their mother watching. Mothwing has never seen her before. “That’s Daisy,” Brackenfur mews, noticing where she’s looking. “From the horseplace.”

ThunderClan really will take in anyone. Mothwing wonders sometimes what would have happened if her mother had come here instead of RiverClan, wonders what it would have been to be Clanmates with Leafpool. Perhaps she’d believe in StarClan still. Perhaps she would have been Cinderpelt’s apprentice, rather than Leafpool…

Mothwing can’t imagine Leafpool as anything but a medicine cat, so she stops there. And speaking of Leafpool, there she is, poking her nose out of her den, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Mothwing?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ in RiverClan,” Mothwing forestalls her. “I’m here because I need a place to stay.”

The cats nearby all stiffen and turn to stare.

“Firestar, did you hear that?” A golden-brown tom, obviously Thornclaw because he looks like Brackenfur, even up close.

Firestar is sharing tongues with his mate, but he glances around sharply. “I did hear. How about we talk about this privately?”

“No. We all deserve to hear,” Thornclaw responds.

“Maybe so,” Firestar meows, thoughtful.

Mothwing tells them little. She says only that something came up and she needs to be away for a while. They remain suspicious, but Firestar’s kindness, for reasons she cannot understand, wins out.

“They don’t trust me as much as they used to,” Leafpool tells her later, as the two of them sit in her den, Leafpool treating the scratch near Mothwing’s nose with some marigold. “Otherwise I would have said more.”

“You heard us last night at the Gathering,” Mothwing breaks in. She had no idea Leafpool was having her own troubles. She wishes she had.

“I…” Leafpool scrapes at the dirt.

“Hawkfrost told Leopardstar that I…that I…”

She can’t continue. Can’t explain. Leafpool will hate her.

“Well, if you’re ever ready to talk about it, I’m here,” Leafpool meows.

*

Mothwing’s dreams are never anything special. She chases frogs (why frogs?). She curls up with Leafpool (almost always Leafpool, except for that odd period when she was an apprentice and it was Leopardstar, ugh).

Right. Nothing special. Just dreams. But tonight isn’t a dream. It is something creeping nearer, watching her, and she cannot see. There is only darkness.

“What is this?” she tries to say, but the words do not leave her mouth; her tongue is tangled in a knot. She looks and looks and the darkness goes on forever.

She wakes, shivering, Leafpool crouching beside her. Mothwing’s nest is in tatters, bits of moss and bracken strewn everywhere. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t wake you,” Leafpool mews. “That must have been some dream.”

“But I didn’t dream,” Mothwing mumbles.

Leafpool just nods. She prepares to speak, then seems to change her mind.

ThunderClan has troubles of its own, Mothwing is unsurprised to learn. The horseplace cat takes her kits and leaves; most of the Clan seems to have expected it, while Brambleclaw and another warrior insist someone go after her.

(Someone does, and Daisy and her kits are back within a day.)

She tries to avoid Brambleclaw. Leafpool seems wary of him, and he looks far too much like Hawkfrost for her comfort.

Squirrelflight talks to Mothwing where most of the others don’t. She brings Leafpool fresh-kill and gives her reassuring little nudges whenever Leafpool gazes off moodily.

But she’s _with_ Brambleclaw, Mothwing notes, even if she is Leafpool’s sister, and that makes Mothwing wary of her kindness.

“Is something wrong?” Mothwing asks Leafpool at the end of her first day in the camp, as a gray tom—Rainwhisker, if Mothwing remembers right—flashes his teeth when Leafpool is bringing a few herbs back to her den.

“What do you mean?”

“They don’t seem happy with you,” Mothwing mews.

Leafpool pauses and cocks her head. “It’s nothing,” she meows, too quick. “It’s probably just because of you.”

Mothwing stiffens. “Could be,” she allows.

It likely is, but Leafpool’s response still stings.

*

“When is she going to leave? We can’t keep her here forever!”

This rouses Mothwing the next morning from yet another of those nightmares of unending darkness, of something reaching and grasping for her. It’s almost welcome.

“She’s a medicine cat, and she deserves our shelter!” another cat yowls. This argument sounds like it’s been going on for a while.

“Says who? Seems to me RiverClan didn’t want her anymore. Wasn’t good enough for them.”

She recognizes this voice: that wily brown molly that had been particularly critical after the tainted water incident that had sickened several elders. Mothwing smooths her pelt in a vain attempt to comfort herself.

“We can trust her, Mousefur. She’s given us no real reason not to.”

“Right, Firestar. Says who? Leafpool? We all know how her loyalties like to stray.”

“I’m loyal to ThunderClan.” Leafpool sounds wounded.

Mothwing finally dares to venture out into the clearing. Most of the Clan is there, some with bristling fur.

“Oh, the sleeper awakes,” a ginger molly near the front meows, almost gently. Mothwing thinks this is Leafpool’s mother.

“Yes, welcome. Have anything to say for yourself?” One of those golden-brown toms, probably Thornclaw, the rude one.

“I am very grateful to ThunderClan for helping me,” Mothwing squeaks.

“Can this conversation wait?” Brambleclaw stands, fixing Mothwing with a heavy glare, then turning to the rest of the Clan. “Patrols need to go out.”

“You’re absolutely right, Brambleclaw, thank you.” Firestar jumps down for the ledge on which he perches. “There’s been some suspicious activity near the Halfbridge in RiverClan, I’ve heard. I’d like you to go take a look.”

“Okay, Firestar.” Brambleclaw looks at Mothwing. “Would you mind showing me the way?”

It’s such an obvious ruse, but Mothwing dares not refuse.

“Oh, come on. You know the way, don’t you, Brambleclaw?” Leafpool pushes between them.

“I was only going to ask her about Stormfur and Brook,” Brambleclaw mews sourly. “Is there something wrong with that?”

The rest of the Clan has dispersed to their duties. The two apprentices have gone out with their mentors. Warriors have gathered into hunting patrols. It’s so much like RiverClan, and Mothwing feels unutterably homesick. But it’s so dull and dark here in the forest. She misses the shells woven into the dens, misses all the little shiny stones cats like to collect.

“I’ll talk to him,” she meows, her heart pounding.

“You don’t need to. He’s got a job to do and is just being a mouse-brain,” Leafpool snaps.

“Oh, come on. Why can’t I—?”

“Come gather herbs with me,” Leafpool meows loudly, cutting over Brambleclaw’s protest.

“I’d like that,” Mothwing sighs.

Brambleclaw rolls his eyes and darts off to go trespass on RiverClan territory. Mothwing snorts and follows Leafpool to an abandoned nest where there is a small patch of coltsfoot, which they set to digging up.

“Why did you leave RiverClan, really?” Leafpool gazes at Mothwing, her eyes pleading. “I’m…I’m happy you’re here. It’s been so hard since— Well anyway, why are you here?”

“I had a dream and Hawkfrost wanted me to interpret it incorrectly,” Mothwing hedges.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Leafpool tells her. “You probably want to know why they’re suspicious of me.”

Mothwing nods. “You don’t need to tell me—”

“If I can’t trust you, then who can I trust?” Leafpool looks prepared to move closer, but holds herself still. “We’ve been friends for such a long time.”

“Go on, then.”

“I was mates with a warrior from another Clan,” Leafpool meows heavily.

Mothwing’s mouth drops open. “What?” Of all the things she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. Except…

Oh.

Mothwing remembers the fond way Leafpool had looked at Crowfeather after they’d arrived at the lake.

“We ran off together. We weren’t going to come back at all, you know? Live our lives away from the Clans, away from any silly rules about relationships.” Leafpool sighs. “I came back, but Cinderpelt had just died in the badger attack and they needed me…more than he did.” And now Leafpool is looking at Mothwing with that same warmth.

Mothwing’s heart stutters, and she smiles back. If she can’t trust Leafpool, then who can she trust?

“I’ve never had a dream from StarClan,” Mothwing admits. “Not one. I don’t believe in them. Hawkfrost told Leopardstar I faked the moth’s wing sign, and she sent me away…”

“But it was him, wasn’t it?”

Oh, Leafpool. Loyal, wonderful Leafpool. “I didn’t know for moons,” Mothwing chokes. “I really thought it had been StarClan. Then he told me and how could any of it be true? The dreams I had that first time at the Moonstone? How could they be true if that sign wasn’t?”

Leafpool’s claws edge out. “That’s horrible! Why would he do that to you?”

Mothwing shakes her head noncommittally. “I can’t teach Willowpaw what the Clan wants her to know. I don’t want to ruin her faith, too. She doesn’t know why I left.”

“She’s just fine,” Leafpool mews, reaching out her tail and running it against Mothwing’s flank. “I’ve dreamed with her. Walked in her dreams. I can teach her what she needs to know.”

“Oh, all right.” Mothwing doesn’t believe a word of that, but she trusts Leafpool’s faith, and that will have to be enough.

When they return to camp, Brambleclaw has come back from his mission, his fur fluffed up to twice its size. “Stormfur and Brook were nearly thrown out,” he explains.

“Nearly? What happened?” Squirrelflight joins him.

“Hawkfrost tried to say that Mothwing’s dream was clear, but Mistyfoot broke in to say that Mothwing was a traitor and had lied about her dream, and that Stormfur and Brook should be allowed to stay if they wished.”

_Oh_, Mothwing thinks, almost pleased. That’s good, then. She never wanted them to leave the Clan in the first place. Hawkfrost had miscalculated.

“Do you regret returning?” Mothwing asks Leafpool as they sit and sort the herbs they gathered.

Leafpool looks down at herself, and Mothwing at last notices what she should have much sooner: Leafpool’s belly is…well…rather obviously round with kits.

“I don’t think I do,” she purrs. “I have everything and everyone I need right here. He was like chasing an interesting butterfly or something. A novelty. Exciting. But…” She gazes at Mothwing with such warmth that Mothwing wants to stay in ThunderClan forever, to always be this close. She puts those thoughts aside for the moment and leans against Leafpool.

It’s just the two of them here. There’s no need to hold back.

“You’ve always been there,” Leafpool mews.

They curl up together, sharing tongues—and, well, other things—that Mothwing never has with another cat.

(Leafpool’s kits-to-be are easy to forget about, for now.)

*

Greenleaf is glorious. The prey runs well. Mothwing likes forest prey; squirrels, especially, are an interesting treat. Leafpool, and Squirrelflight, and Sorreltail (the queen with a pawful of kits and who explained her comfort with Mothwing simply as “I trust Leafpool”) are all happy to share fresh-kill with her.

But she knows she doesn’t really belong here. She and Leafpool share a nest sometimes and no one takes notice, and it is too good to be true.

Mothwing doesn’t go with Leafpool for the Half Moon. Leafpool returns with news of Willowpaw. “She had a dream that you need to go back to RiverClan sometime. She begged me to tell you.”

Poor, goodhearted Willowpaw. Mothwing misses her terribly. “That’s sweet,” she meows. “But I don’t think I can ever go back with Hawkfrost there.”

Brambleclaw is made deputy at the end of the day, and Leafpool kneads the ground anxiously during his ceremony, even though she herself had reported a sign from StarClan. Mothwing does not join the Clan’s cheers. It feels too much like congratulating Hawkfrost for Mothwing’s comfort, so she just nods politely.

Sleeping with Leafpool does nothing for the horrible, hollow dreams. Something is about to happen, Mothwing is sure, and her brother and Brambleclaw are likely at the center of it.

The day after Brambleclaw is made Deputy, her fears are confirmed.

(Leafpool’s, too, if her pacing and obsessive claw-cleaning are anything to go by.)

*

“Where is Firestar?” Leafpool asks the gray tom who’s just sent Brambleclaw off to meet with him. “Ashfur, where is he?”

“Follow Brambleclaw and you’ll find him,” Ashfur replies glibly. “What do I care? It’s just a something he saw that he wants Brambleclaw to see. Nothing to worry about.”

Mothwing approaches. “I’ll go with you.”

Ashfur hisses at her but turns away.

They follow Brambleclaw’s scent trail, and as they walk, Leafpool becomes increasingly agitated. “The fox trap is this way,” she mews.

Oh yes, the thing that had taken off the tip of that poor kit’s tail, Mothwing remembers with a shudder.

She’s right. Mothwing, half a step behind, catches the scent of blood as Leafpool does. But she recognizes another scent, too, that fills her with dread and something like…

Hope. Because for all she knows, Hawkfrost could be here to help Firestar, to save him from whatever is happening.

But then they come into sight of the fox trap, and Mothwing’s heart plummets. Leafpool lets out a horrified cry.

Firestar is sprawled awkwardly on one side, a wire about his neck. Blood wells in his fur where the wire has cut into his flesh. He tries to raise his head at Leafpool’s yowl, but there is a fresh spurt of blood and he drops it again.

In front of him stands Brambleclaw, frozen, his gaze fixed. On his other side crouches Hawkfrost, who lashes his tail impatiently. “Come on!” he spits. “Tigerstar said you were too weak to kill him and take what’s yours. I said you should have a chance. Are you going to prove him right?”

Brambleclaw looks at Firestar and says nothing. Firestar’s struggles become gradually weaker.

“Hawkfrost,” Mothwing meows, stumbling forward. She has no idea what she wants to say, but the words come, unbidden. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

Hawkfrost notices her for the first time. “Oh?” He rolls his eyes with his usual cocky nonchalance, something she had once adored and now finds infuriating. “What are you going to do, sister? Tigerstar tried to talk to you, too, you know, but you were just too broken for him to reach.”

“I’m not broken, Hawkfrost,” Mothwing hisses. “I’m not the one obsessed with a dead cat that deserves to be forgotten.”

Brambleclaw has finally moved, attempting to dig the fox trap out of the ground. “Oh no you don’t,” Hawkfrost meows, and pounces on him. Mothwing leaps at the same time, knocking him aside before he can reach Brambleclaw. He turns on her, teeth bared.

She’s caught him off balance and presses her advantage. He’s broader in the shoulder than she is, but what Mothwing lacks in brawn she makes up for in speed. She manages a hefty blow to the back of his head, and he stumbles. Mothwing pins him, her paw striking downward, directly at his throat…

“What are y-you doing?” he chokes, his blue eyes wide.

_Oh no. What is she doing?_ She stops, sheathing her claws but not allowing him to stand. But then he thrashes desperately, and in horror, she leaps away. He makes at a few mouse-lengths, as if he’s trying to escape, but only makes it as far as the lakeshore, where he collapses.

_No_, Mothwing cries, silent, and hurries after him. No, she hadn’t wanted this.

But he would have hurt Leafpool by killing someone she loved, and Mothwing can’t allow him that…

The justification rings hollow, though, and she remembers…

When they were kits, Tadpole would come up with the games, and Hawkfrost would improve them. The three of them would play for hours, much to Sasha’s fond frustration.

When the three of them would wrestle, Mothwing almost always won.

They’re all gone now. Tadpole drowned. Sasha was far away. And Hawkfrost—

He lies half in the lake, the blood from his throat wound dying the water almost pink.

“Mothwing?” Leafpool presses against her, looking spooked. She seems to be whispering something to herself, too quiet for Mothwing to catch.

Squirrelflight must have arrived while Mothwing was fighting Hawkfrost. She and Brambleclaw are helping Firestar to his paws. His wound still needs treating, but the wire is gone.

“No one will speak of what happened here,” Firestar meows, looking from Brambleclaw to Mothwing. “Thank you, for saving me. Brambleclaw, I trusted you. Seems I was right about that.”

“Yes, Firestar,” Brambleclaw mews.

“And you.” Firestar turns fully to Mothwing. Leafpool leans closer, her nose touching Mothwing’s cheek. “I’m so sorry about Hawkfrost.”

That is not what she expected him to say. “Th-Thank you,” she manages to reply.

“Tigerstar ruined everything he ever touched. I’m sorry he seems to have gotten to him, too.”

“Let’s go back to camp,” Squirrelflight meows. Leafpool goes to follow, but when Mothwing doesn’t move, she stops.

“Are you coming?”

“I will,” Mothwing meows. “I just…need a moment.”

She pads over to where Hawkfrost’s body rests and begins to drag him out of the water.

The wound at his throat is deep, she notices, but perhaps not quite enough to have killed him. He must have drowned. She could have saved him. But she hadn’t even tried.

“Do you want any help?”

Mothwing jumps, fur bristling. Brambleclaw hadn’t left with the others. His eyes are downcast, his tail dragging in the grass.

Mothwing feels a flash of rage at this cat. Who does he think he is? Just because he shares their father doesn’t mean he understands any of Mothwing’s pain.

“I need to be alone for a while,” Mothwing meows curtly.

He dips his head and goes.

Mothwing returns to the camp a while later, her paws sore from digging, her eyes dry and prickly and aching. Leafpool licks her ears in greeting. “How are you?”

“I love you,” Mothwing meows. “So much.”

“I love you, too. I think I always have.”

Mothwing thinks she has, too.

Leafpool settles Mothwing in their nest with gentle, comforting efficiency. “Do you want to tell me about him?”

“Another day. Not right now.” Mothwing relaxes as Leafpool continues her licking. “I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else the way he did me. Who knows how far his obsession with Tigerstar would have taken him.” But she’ll always miss him, just as she still misses Tadpole and their mother. And even though he’d been so cruel to her, she will always love him.

*

A patrol enters camp, with Leopardstar stalking in their midst. Mothwing catches sight of her and nearly goes back to hide in Leafpool’s den, but Leopardstar doesn’t appear hostile. “Is Mothwing here?” she meows. “Or is she out—”

“I’m here.” Mothwing emerges and walks tentatively forward.

“It’s time for you to come home, I think. Seems I was wrong to drive you away. That little apprentice of yours wouldn't let me hear the end of it.” Leopardstar’s eyes skitter about the camp. Mothwing doesn’t think she’s ever seen her at a loss for words.

“She doesn’t have to go back if she doesn’t want to,” Firestar meows. “Mothwing, you’re welcome to stay here if you so wish.”

“I’ll go,” Mothwing assures him. The rest of ThunderClan has started to bristle at his invitation, but they all immediately relax.

“You’re going back?” Leafpool’s eyes are bright, and her mew trembles.

Mothwing touches noses with her, whispering something equal parts naughty and sappy that it makes her ears hot just to think about. Leafpool breaks into a purr.

“I owe so much to ThunderClan,” Mothwing meows. “Thank you all for sheltering me. I’ll never forget it.” She says this to the entire clearing, never looking away from Leafpool.

“All right, all right, enough of this.” Leopardstar swishes her tail. “Are you ready to go?”

“I think so.” Mothwing smiles at Leafpool one last time and follows Leopardstar out.

There are plenty of opportunities for medicine cats to spend time together, especially when they’re young and in love.

With each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for fratricide (Mothwing, rather than Brambleclaw, kills Hawkfrost).


End file.
